that nevada sun: what a show off

I took these pictures Friday night on my way to Reno. I was driving the long way around Washoe Lake -- as everyone would if I was in charge of things -- when I decided it was time to stop and listen to music and look at the little bit of lake that hasn't been slurped up by the sky.  

It was a 10 minute power moment that was just what the doctor ordered. Thinking and sifting through emotions and deciding if the people I'm surrounding myself with are actually making me happy or not. It's tough cookies. Every couple of months I try to do this -- step back and evaluate my happiness. It's very centering to be a little bit selfish. Even for just 10 minutes every few months. I mean, let's not get carried away or anything.

It's been quiet around here because we've come down with a terrible sickness in the middle of the busiest week (which always seems to be when terrible sickness finds us). So we have been fighting something between the plague and scarlet fever over here while keeping everything in life going. You know those acts where someone spins plates on those wooden rods and they have to run back and forth between the plates to keep them spinning and keep them from falling? That's how I've been feeling. I'm running around spinning the plates to keep everything from crashing down. So far I've been doing a pretty good job, if I do say so myself (and I do). But sometimes a plate falls, and I don't have time to stop and mourn the loss of that individual plate or 5 more plates will fall.

So we got ourselves some sickness. 

Being sick as a mom is a whole new experience that I'm figuring out. I'm sick and spinning the plates, which is making me move slower, making more mistakes, letting more plates crash to the ground than usual. But then you hear that piercing scream that comes right before vomit. It's the worst sound a mom can hear. 

Ours hit in the car as I was unloading the laundry. I hear the scream, see the sickness. Sage's eyes full of tears meet my eyes and he pleads with the words he doesn't have yet for me to make it stop. Another scream. More sickness. More tears. He grabs me with his hands so hard that I can feel his little hands pinching my skin. He won't let me put him down, he just wants me to hold him, make the pain go away. Take away the fear. Comfort him.

Meanwhile the plates all fall to the ground.

I keep one plate spinning. The one with "Sage" painted on the rim. The only plate that matters.